


7 blankets

by Poutini



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Cuddles, Fluff, M/M, Tender tender murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27166790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poutini/pseuds/Poutini
Summary: 7 blankets, 7 cozy moments.To be posted over 7 days.Chapter 1 - Stevie's comforterChapter 2 - Chenille throwChapter 3 - Chunky arm-knitted blanketChapter 4 - Flannel sheets and a winter-weight duvetChapter 5 - David’s baby blanketChapter 6 - Patrick’s Nana’s quiltChapter 7 - Light summer throw
Relationships: David Rose & Alexis Rose, Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 74
Kudos: 159





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sonlali](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonlali/gifts).



Patrick is pliant as David curls around him in Stevie’s bed. David presses a kiss to the constellation of freckles on Patrick’s shoulder, his skin having cooled and the pink faded, from where it had been flushed and burning not half an hour ago. Patrick’s eyelashes flutter, but his eyes remain closed, a small, satisfied smile teasing at his parted, kiss swollen lips. 

David tucks his chin against the nape of Patrick’s neck, inhaling the scent of Patrick’s drug store brand shampoo that somehow, infuriatingly, works for him. 

He prods Patrick’s feet with his own. “Lift,” he says softly. Patrick complies, and David kicks the blanket up and under their feet. He pulls Stevie’s comforter up around Patrick’s shoulders, tucking it under his chin. Under the covers, he wraps an arm around Patrick’s waist. 

“Goodnight, Patrick,” he murmurs against Patrick’s hairline.

“Goodnight, David,” comes the slurred, sleepy reply.


	2. Chapter 2

Perpendicular to Patrick on the couch, legs bent at the knee, David tucks his bare feet under Patrick’s thighs. 

“Holy shit, David! Your feet are freezing!” 

David wiggles both his eyebrows and his toes against Patrick’s denim clad legs in response.

Patrick reaches behind him, pulling a small chenille throw off the couch. He leans away from David, away from those ice cold feet, and wraps the throw around them, tucking it tight before sitting back in position. 

Patrick places a hand on David’s knee, his thumb tracing patterns over skin exposed by the fashionable rips. “Better?” he asks.

“Always,” David replies, placing a hand over Patrick’s and squeezing.


	3. Chapter 3

David dreads each and every monthly vendor workshop at the Apothecary. However, every time, it proves to not only be more profitable than anticipated, but also far more enjoyable. So far, David had improved his calligraphy skills, crafted a small stained glass rose, and whipped up a mean spinach dip. 

But tonight. Well, tonight was special. This was the one workshop he’d been looking forward to, and it did not disappoint. 

And as if by design, Patrick is curled up on the couch asleep when David gets to Ray’s. Perfect.

Making as little noise as possible, David draws the baby blue, chunky arm knit blanket from his tote and kneels beside Patrick. Carefully, he tucks the blanket around Patrick’s waist, and under his socked feet. 

With David’s touch, Patrick’s eyes flutter open. “What’s this?” he asks sleepily, patting the soft blanket. 

“Just a little something I made you,” David says softly. “You stay cozy, I’m going to shower.”

David pauses at the bottom of the stairs, looking back at the couch, where Patrick has pulled the blanket up under his chin and drifted back to sleep. 


	4. Chapter 4

David emerges from the bathroom, towel drying his hair. Patrick is under the covers, propped against the headboard, reading. 

Covers, that were white cotton with a grey stripe that morning, but are now a red, green and yellow plaid, folded gently over the top of a crisp white duvet cover.

“This is...festive,” David remarks, running his hand along the soft flannel. 

“It’s October 15th, David, time to switch to winter weight bedding.”

David slides under the covers, and tangles his feet with Patrick’s. “S’warm,” he says, nuzzling against Patrick’s cotton-covered shoulder. Patrick turns for a soft kiss to David’s temple. “It’s because there’s also a heated mattress cover on the bed, baby.”

“Oh my god, I love you,” David murmurs, nosing at Patrick’s arm until it lifts, creating a space for David to curl up on Patrick’s chest. 

“I know,” Patrick replies, lowering his arm, and pulling David in tight. 


	5. Chapter 5

Alexis found it when she started packing for the Galapagos. Not much larger than a pillowcase, the black and white elephant covered fabric, once plush, crushed, but still soft. A few singed threads, from the time toddler David got too close to the stove, and a small hole from the time a teething baby David had opted to chew on his blanket rather than his Sophie La Girafe. But considering its age, it was in remarkably good shape.

When Jocelyn returned David’s baby blanket, his first gift from Adelina, and prized possession, repurposed into the cover of a small throw cushion, Alexis knew she had found the perfect housewarming present for David. 


	6. Chapter 6

David pokes his head behind the curtain, into the storeroom, where his husband is hunched over the desk, poking away at his numeric keypad and frowning. 

“Honey?” he calls softly.

Patrick looks up. He looks tired. Tax season is such a drain. It’s well past closing time, and they’re still at the store. 

“There’s a package here for you. It’s pretty heavy. Do you want me to bring it back?”

Patrick nods, and David disappears for a moment before walking back in, carrying a parcel. 

Upon closer inspection, the return address is Patrick’s parents, and this piques Patrick’s curiosity. Neither of their birthdays, nor any anniversary they’ve ever made public are near. 

Patrick gasps when he draws the patchwork quilt out of the box. “Nana,” he says with a hushed voice, running his hand over the fabric. He looks up at David, his eyes shining with tears. “It’s my Nana’s quilt,” he explains, choking up. “She died when I was 11.”

David takes the quilt out of the box, and leads his husband by the hand to the couch. With his back against the arm, one leg along the back length, and one foot still on the floor, he holds his arms open, and drapes the quilt over Patrick, who settles in the space David has created. Patrick sniffs, trying hard to keep the tears at bay. 

“Will you tell me about her?” David asks, pressing a tender kiss behind Patrick’s ear. 

Patrick’s nod is almost imperceptible, and in a small voice, he starts. “She made the best lasagne…”


	7. Chapter 7

Patrick sits down on the swing next to David. The sky is full of spectacular pink and red streaks as the early summer sun sets in front of them. Patrick drapes a light throw over their legs, tucking it under David’s far thigh, and his own. 

David looks the picture of contentment, glass of wine in his hand, eyes closed, lips curved up in a smile. 

“How’s this?” Patrick asks.

“Perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on the Tumblr at cheesecurdsgravyandfries.


End file.
